


Fire and Ice

by roguefaerie



Category: Good Grief - Dessa (Music Video)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Magic, Minor Character Death, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27229747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguefaerie/pseuds/roguefaerie
Summary: Theirs was a family forged in grief.
Relationships: Woman in Car & Man in Car
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Fire and Ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ambyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambyr/gifts).



The snow had finally stopped when she got the phone call, and she did everything she could not to skid on the ice in the parking lot. But the weight of the news sent her down to the ground, knees wet and heart heaving like it had all those years ago. The desperate, rough cold didn’t fully reach her even with her clothes starting to soak through. She was lost in memories and pain.

After her family’s accident, it had taken her so long to get comfortable driving again, but she wanted to be able to be in control if anything was to go wrong. Now here she was, guts roiling and her whole body shaking on the ground next to a car. 

This grief was fresh, and with it came all the others, for her parents and aunt and for how small her family was, how her uncle and cousin had been the only people left in her world and her uncle had taken them in, still grief-stricken and miserable but determined he would not lose anyone else.

Now her cousin was on the phone telling her he was gone, his father was gone and it was the two of them left now, with the family magic coursing through their veins.

They would not raise the dead, but they _would_ be the last of the family line, two raised in tandem so that some people asked if they were brother and sister, or fraternal twins. They would laugh about it and say joyfully, “Cousins,” and only rarely would they ever fill in the whole story. It was theirs, to hold close against themselves.

Her uncle had provided the close-knit environment she needed, even if it was only in the form of cousin Bobby always nearby, the two of them knit together by circumstance and the magic in their blood. 

* * *

She needed to go to him, in the beat up car full of dust and memories. There was nothing left for them to do but drive out to the old house that was left to them, rickety and home and _theirs_ with all the family pain carried inside.

They drove quietly, and when they stopped the car she got out. She was practiced at this pain, and she could be on top of it just enough to get this done. She bought as many lighters as she could, and she dreamed awake of the fire they were about to build, the magic they would call.

* * *

The drive was long, and Bobby spent so much of it with his winter jacket pulled high enough it could even cover his eyes. She made sure that they had liquor, and at the end of the drive they had plans to drink. She knew Bobby would partake first, and harder. Then she would drink just enough for warmth and the necessary distance.

He didn’t say her name, or even look at her when she was done loading the car with the supplies for the bonfire. 

_Thanks, Milla_ , she thought, but she didn’t demand any kind of gratitude from him. She knew his pain was fresh, and hers was bubbling upwards from times past like it might overtake her, too.

She had to keep moving--watch the road, be thankful for the car under her, solid and real. Maybe Bobby was too. He finally offered wordlessly to get behind the wheel, and she imagined with every mile they were getting closer to their destination and farther away from the news that the one person left in the world who had loved them was gone.

There they were amid so many ups and downs, so many what-ifs. She remembered that kind of thing, distantly, and sometimes distinctly, like it was all happening all over again right in front of her. If grief in the past was somehow better, maybe it had prepared her for the present moment.

Part of her was ready to be the one that Bobby needed, just like she always had been, what-ifs melting away so they could be there for each other. They could always find each other, whether it was the family magic or just love that eclipsed the pain of grief that had tinted so much in their family, seemingly pointing the way to all of the decisions they had made or life had made for them.

* * *

Here they were together, still driving and driving, the sureness of the road leading them to the house. 

It was cold there, because no one had been inside since they’d last covered the furniture. She wasn’t sure if she ever expected to be back here, whether it was a part of the family legacy or not. Maybe they had expected the past to stay here, under cover. But now it was theirs. They had no choice but to make it theirs, and keep it.

Once they had brought everything inside, she donned her mother’s necklace and Bobby went to get cleaned up and shave. It made her smile. He had a tough exterior sometimes, but she liked the idea of him looking the way he wanted to if this was their final goodbye to Uncle Morris.

He would have a proper send-off, a bonfire built with the right materials. Modern.

Magic tingled under her skin as the necklace settled against the flesh of her throat. They went outside together, and she knew Bobby could feel the magic in the air, just like they had planned. It was the perfect day to say goodbye, to send their grief out into the universe as a pair.

Fire burned in front of them, whirling up into the sky, and when she reached for his hand there was no doubt she was at home.

They didn’t speak. They simply completed the ritual of departure as one, family magic thick in their bones and seeping from their pores. If they were two against the world now, there was no one else she would rather be with; no one else she wanted beside her to carry that burden and live well with.

She knew that Uncle Morris would never have wanted it any other way, and if they needed to carry one another through it they could and would.

Their family was forged in fire and ice, and grief. And that grief had taught them well, that a burden shared was halved.

**Author's Note:**

> This was not why I chose the name Milla, but when I looked it up I found out it is Polish and means "young ceremonial attendant." :) So, I decided to keep it for her. I hope you like this interpretation of the video!


End file.
